


Beware the Quiet Man

by Anonymous



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Explicit Language, Light Sadism, M/M, No Smut, One Shot, Physical Abuse, Sex for Favors, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:34:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22883380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Set during Ahsoka's trial. With his Padawan's future hanging in the balance, a desperate Anakin Skywalker pleads his case to the Supreme Chancellor. Tempers fray, Anakin pushes boundaries, and Palpatine's mask finally slips.
Relationships: Sheev Palpatine/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 13
Kudos: 96
Collections: Anonymous





	Beware the Quiet Man

_"I want to believe you, Anakin. Truly. But I feel I must warn you, the evidence against Padawan Tano is quite damning..."_

Anakin was slow to respond. Lifting his head in the direction of the voice, he stared drunkenly at the stately, silver-haired figure of the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic. Seated diagonally across from him, the old man was perched upright in his chair and looking down his prominent nose to where Anakin was sprawled half-asleep on an antique wood-trimmed couch.

"I am so very sorry, my boy,” Palpatine said, his pale blue eyes welling with sympathy. "I know how close you two were."

_Were._

The wine had slowed his tongue, or Anakin might've protested the Chancellor's usage of the past tense.

What time was it? There were no windows in the overly warm, scarlet room, and he was tempted to drift off on the couch. His eyelids grew heavy with sleep, but he held the Chancellor's tearful gaze without blinking. He didn’t doubt Palpatine’s sincerity, but the old man's polite condolences were of little use to him. What hadn't Palpatine offered to simply pardon Ahsoka? Anakin knew it was well within his purview. Surely he didn't believe Ahsoka was guilty? 

He shifted gruffly in place, accidentally bumping a nearby end table and knocking over an arrangement of blood red Naboo orchids. There was a muffled thump as the gold leaf vase fell upon the carpet, and within a moment a well-polished droid had emerged from a darkened enclave to sweep up the mess.

Anakin waited for Palpatine to dismiss the droid before attempting to speak.

"I know Ahsoka better than anyone" he rasped, his voice barely recognizable to his own ears. "She would never…" His chest tightened, and he struggled upright to gulp the rest of his spiced wine, hoping to dispel the bitter taste from his mouth. The Chancellor reached out and plucked the empty glass from his hand as Anakin sank deeper into the cushioned embrace of the sofa. Heat pooled in the pit of his stomach as the drink worked its magic, and his fingers tingled numbly. 

Refilling his own glass, the Chancellor fell into a pensive silence, delicately wrinkling his brow in thought. 

“You don’t believe me?” Anakin demanded in a strained voice, his vocal cords still frayed from earlier. He'd spent the past hour or so loudly defending his padawan’s innocence in front of the Chancellor, furiously pacing back and forth on the carpet before Palpatine finally coaxed him to sit. Now he planted his feet as if to stand, his anger flaring up.

The Chancellor licked his wine-colored lips, hesitating. “The evidence is quite damning, as I said... but I’ve never known your instincts to be wrong.” He paused to sip from his crystal glass, eyeing the boy with a hooded gaze. “Do you recall when Master Kenobi faked his own death?” He asked after a beat.

Anakin clenched his robotic fist, grunting in response. Of course he remembered.

“You never believed the official story. All the evidence seemed to point in one direction, but you followed your instinct. You should never doubt your feelings, Anakin.”

Anakin let out a shuddering breath, but the tightness in his chest remained. “So you do believe me?” He said, staring at the man in wide-eyed desperation. He wanted to hear Palpatine say it. He _needed_ to hear him say it.

The Chancellor merely offered him a sad smile. “It does not matter what I believe. It is not up to me to decide the fate of every man, woman, and child. If it were, well...” he gestured limply, “perhaps things would be different.” Anakin opened his mouth to protest, but the Chancellor politely overrode him. “Anakin, hear me,” he said, sliding forward in his seat. “You have made many… salient points. And you will of course be allowed to speak at the trial in Ahsoka’s defense. But know this, the testimony of one Jedi - even one as exemplarily as yourself - will stand for little in the face of such evidence. Of course, if you were to find some proof of her innocence…”

Proof.

“I need more time,” Anakin said, his voice cracking in frustration. He cleared his throat roughly. “Delay the trial. _Please_.”

Palpatine sighed. “Anakin, I’ve delayed it twice already. I cannot delay it indefinitely, and I know the Jedi Council are eager to see this situation resolved.”

“Fuck the Council,” Anakin snarled, lurching to his feet in a burst of rage. The floor seemed to tilt, but he remained stubbornly upright. 

Palpatine smiled thinly. He seemed amused by the sentiment, but he sent Anakin a chiding look nevertheless. “Your loyalty is to be admired. Whatever happens, Padawan Tano is lucky to have a friend like you.”

Anakin swayed in place as the red paneled walls swirled in his periphery. “I thought you were my friend,” He muttered with an underlying slur. 

“I am,” Palpatine said, frowning. He unlaced his hands and motioned discreetly to the empty sofa. “Perhaps you should sit down, Anakin."

Anakin was tempted to defy the Chancellor, but his knees buckled of their own accord and he fell backwards into his seat. His head thumped against the backboard, and when he opened his eyes Palpatine was leaning over him in concern. “Anakin, listen to me,” he said in a gentle voice. There was a rustle of silk as he lowered himself to sit at the foot of the couch. “I am your friend, but I am also the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic. I cannot play favorites, as it were."

Anakin stared at the man. While everything else blurred at he edges, his impression of the Chancellor remained crystal clear.

“What if I were on trial instead of Ahsoka?” He said, blinking slowly. “Would you play favorites then?”

Palpatine gaped at the boy in what appeared to be genuine astonishment, and Anakin felt a small thrill of triumph. He had actually succeeded in rendering the Chancellor speechless. Heart hammering in excitement, he leaned forward to press his sudden advantage, effectively pinning the older man in his seat.

“What do you want? Just tell me, and I’ll do it. I’ll do anything.” The Chancellor tensed at the sudden proximity, dropping his gaze to his lap. Anakin took a deep, shuddering breath. "Do you want me to suck you off?" He asked bluntly.

Palpatine twitched in disgust. “ _Anakin_.” He said in a sharp whisper, correcting the boy with an icy sidelong glance. He said nothing further, and Anakin sensed that he was willing to let the subject drop without another word.

The boy slouched back against the couch and fell into a moody silence before barking a cruel laugh. A furious dark red blush had erupted in odd patches across his friend’s naturally pale face, confirming what Anakin had suspected all along, that Palpatine’s affection for him was not entirely wholesome. Anakin was not alone in his thinking. Obi-Wan and Padme, both, often hinted that the Chancellor had some ulterior motive in singling Anakin out. Padme had even used the word "possessive" to describe Palpatine's behavior in relation to her husband. Anakin was always quick to brush off such concerns, pretending not to notice the old man's possessive streak, when in fact he was secretly flattered by the Chancellor's attentions.

"I know you want me," Anakin said, huffing a laugh when the Chancellor continued to ignore him, his sharp profile fixed in a deep-set grimace. Anakin leaned towards him, noting the almost imperceptible manner in which he flinched at the sudden movement. Surely the Chancellor wasn't afraid of him? The boy softened his voice, hoping to coax his friend out of his defensive posture. "I'm not a child anymore, _Palpatine_. I've seen the way you look at me..." And when this failed to garner a reaction, Anakin reached out a hand —

Palpatine was quicker. In a blur, he turned towards the boy and struck him viciously across the mouth. Anakin heard himself cry out in pain before darkness edged his vision. The next thing he knew, he was doubled over on the sofa, spitting up a mouthful of blood, the color of which closely resembled the spiced wine from earlier, now sitting cold and rancid in his stomach. More blood dribbled down his chin and beaded off the synthetic leather of his jerkin. His bottom lip had cut on a tooth and his tongue was missing a sizable chunk of flesh. He dabbed at the gore with his sleeve, muffling a moan. 

The cushion shifted beside him, and he tensed on instinct, watching from the corner of his eye as the Chancellor rose grimly to his feet, vanishing from the boy's sight as he stalked to the far side of the room in a flurry of dark silk. Anakin remained as he was, hunched over on the sofa as the man busied himself at his desk. An icy-cold wave of sobriety was beginning to wash over him, and his stomach roiled as the reality of his situation sunk in. 

Palpatine had struck him! Palpatine, who had once pardoned a young Anakin for breaking a sacred Naboo artifact in this very room without so much as a slap on the wrist. Instead the Chancellor had offered him tea, allowing the traumatized slave-boy to cry on his shoulder. Anakin almost choked up at the memory, and he buried his face in his hands as the room spun wildly, clenching his jaw to stave off being sick on the carpet. 

He closed his eyes to submerge himself in the Force, seeking refuge in calmer waters. His skin prickled. The Chancellor's rage had iced over, and he appeared to Anakin as a pale, ghostly figure shrouded beneath a veil of biting mist. As Anakin drew nearer, groping blindly, the fog enveloped him, icy tendrils licking up his spine...

He came to with a start, shivering in his seat. He could sense the Chancellor's eyes on him, and he risked a glance upwards, squinting through a sheen of unshed tears. 

The Chancellor now cut a thin, dark figure, standing in the the center of the red room with his arms folded stiffly across his chest. The color had drained from his cheeks, and the boy was struck by how gray and withered he looked. The expression on his face was hard and unreadable. "Is this how the Jedi Order teaches its students to conduct diplomacy?" He asked, his tone deceptively pleasant. He advanced forward a step. Then, sweeping out a winged sleeve, he motioned to Anakin. "To play the whore in exchange for political favors?" 

Anakin bowed his head in shame. He didn't trust himself to speak, though he desperately wanted to apologize. What could he say? He had always taken it for granted that Palpatine desired him on some level, but perhaps the man was content to desire him from afar. Or... perhaps he didn't desire the boy at all.

Now the Chancellor was drawing towards him, his soft footsteps muffled by the swish of his robes. He paused in front of the sofa and wordlessly extended a cold, slender hand to cup the boy's cheek. Anakin repressed the urge to shiver and instead leaned into the gentle touch, tilting his head back when prompted. Palpatine stood over him, pursing his dark lips as he narrowly examined the boy's injuries.

“I will delay the trial as long as I can,” he said, motioning for silence when Anakin made a clumsy attempt at speech. “But that’s the end of it. We shall not speak of this again.”

Anakin tried to nod, but the Chancellor was clutching his chin in an icy grip. Long fingers pinched and prodded the boy’s mottled flesh, and a thumb brushed intimately against the cut on his bottom lip. The grip tightened, and Anakin hissed in pain as the Chancellor pressed the sharp tip of his manicured thumbnail into the open wound. The kindly face staring down at him morphed into a wrinkled snarl.

“And you will never speak to me like that again, do you hear me?” He released his grip and shoved away from the boy in disgust. 

"I'm sorry," Anakin cried out to him in a choked voice. “I thought you wanted — “

Palpatine whirled around. “Do not presume to know what I want,” He snapped, eyes and teeth flashing dangerously. His hand twitched at his side, as if to strike the boy again. Anakin froze. He knew he could easily overpower the old man, but he made no motion to defend himself, willing to accept whatever punishment the Chancellor deemed fitting. 

Palpatine turned his head sharply to one side. "Don't tempt me, Anakin," he said, his pale gaze lingering on a spot of blood on the sofa. "You would not enjoy my _attentions_." 


End file.
